


fangz

by GrimHeaperr



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anthropodermic bibliopegy, Blood, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Gore, Knives, M/M, Magic, Sex, Torture, Vampires, a/b/o dynamics, dark!shiro, fake memories, gkVHFF, slow start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:39:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimHeaperr/pseuds/GrimHeaperr
Summary: Keith is forced to live with his estranged family after the death of his parents. In his new life, he meets the town's librarian, Shiro.Shiro's interest in Keith is more selfish than it seems.





	fangz

**Author's Note:**

> *shows up late to own event*  
> This fic is for week three of my [fic-fest](http://grimkohai.tumblr.com/post/178229608794/its-my-favorite-time-of-year-again-halloween)! It took me a bit to edit the story how I wanted it to be, and I'm still not satisfied. 
> 
> Title and Story based off of [Fangz by The Ready Set](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdSrwb-TLEw).
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> 1\. The non-con refers to dubious consent that leads to graphic depictions of violence.
> 
> 2\. If you google that long-ass term, you'll know what this story will be about.
> 
> 3\. My friend says this is my yiffy furry vampire guro fic and all I wanna say is that I understand 3/4 of that statement.

Keith watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Kolivan traced a hand above him in circular motions. The silver of Kolivan’s magick twisted around Keith’s neck, digging and pinching into his skin as it went. Kolivan chanted words in an ancient tongue – the binding spell. Keith gasped as the words become harsher and echoed in the chamber. His throat seared and filled the room with the scent of burning flesh, rotten and foul. After what seemed like hours, Kolivan clasped his hands around Keith’s neck and squeezed.

A fire burned through every vein in Keith's body. His blood boiled and bubbled beneath his hot skin. Sweat began to drip from his hairline and trail down his face as he watched a phantom line etch into the paleness of his arms and disappear. He sunk his dull nails in his uncle's arms and looked up at him with glassy eyes. Kolivan returned the stare, deep purple eyes emotionless. However, Keith could make out the slight frown on his lips. Keith gasped as the thread tightened and morphed into a second skin around his neck. The spell danced across the flesh underneath Kolivan's hands and branded the clan's mark into Keith.

The spell bound him to the clan until his death. Before, Keith avoided that burden thanks to his mother. She hid him and his father from the clan, and their world, in a small, run-down ranch style home far into the countryside. The three of them lived in seclusion for the twenty years of Keith's existence, farming and growing what the seasons allowed. Occasionally, Keith and his father would trade and sell items in the small village nearby — it’s there that Keith’s blood became known to the townsfolk. He was unusually beautiful and kept to himself, hidden beneath his mother’s deep purple cloak. He only talked when spoken to and occasionally bit back harsh remarks. During a sour deal, a man went after his father with a small dagger. Keith jumped in front of the blade and caught it, the sharp edge digging into his hand. When the man pulled it back, the deep gash healed over as it went, no blood visible. The man lunged forward again but this time, Keith killed him, nails sharp and eyes gold. Weeks later, while Keith walked a horse to sell in the next town over, the villagers had come to kill him. Instead, they found his father and mother.

When he came back, the embers were dying and their blood crusted on the wooden steps of the porch.

His mother’s death released the spell that rested dormant on her upper thigh. It alerted the clan of her whereabouts, and in return, lead them to Keith. Keith, whose hands were buried in the ashes of his home. Keith, who knew the bare minimum about his estranged family. Keith, who never knew true fear until Kolivan stared at him with uncaring, violent red eyes.

"Keith," Kolivan's chill threaded through his mind, "Come back."

Keith gasped as the tightness around his neck released. He sucked in the damp, warm air of the chamber and fell to his hands and knees. He spat out an acclamation of his breakfast and clotted blood.

"What was that?" Keith rasped through frantic breaths, his anger muted by pain.

"A spell that will keep you safe. It would have been painless if you wanted it there."

With that, Kolivan exits the chamber. A few others in the clan followed him through the heavy metal door. Keith didn't follow.

He stayed where the clan had left him. He lowered his head to the floor, letting the cool marble seep into his heated skin. He sobbed.

Kolivan made him feel weak. He couldn’t speak in his presence. His uncle would force him to be quiet with magic or outright ignore him. Keith had been asleep prior to the ritual and was dragged from his bed by a few other members. When he protested, they released pheromones to calm him down and he’s ashamed to say it worked. His mother never shared much about her family. He knew of Kolivan due to a curse in his name, but that was it. He knew nothing about the clan, or of the mansion, or why his mother kept them from him, but after what Kolivan did, he understands. He’s cruel.

_Was mom forced to have the spell too?_

After his tears had dried, Keith left the musky chamber. He followed the dark corridor to the stairwell and blinked at the sudden light. As he took in the fresh air, the weight of the spell settled into his skin, his muscles, and his bones. He could feel it move with him as he breathed.

When he was taken, another member, Regris, informed him about the Mamora Clan. Kolivan was one of the four ancient members, two of them being a man named Thace and a doctor named Ulaz. His mother was the fourth and the youngest of the group. Thace had shown Keith his new, cramped room nestled in the shadows of a hallway. He also gave Keith spare clothes and brought him food the first few nights he stayed at the mansion. Ulaz visited him in the dark hours of the night, taking samples of his skin, blood, and hair to confirm what the clan already knew: that Keith Kogane, their youngest member, was a halfling. His skin was pale, but he could go out in direct sunlight. He could eat human food but required blood to get all of his nutrients. He showed up in photos, could look in mirrors, and had a knack for counting. According to Kolivan --  _My uncle_ , his mind supplied -- Keith's existence was a disturbing anomaly but also an asset the clan could use. For what, he didn’t know.

The Mamora Clan's mansion home was nestled deep in a forest, wide, and standing three stories tall. Regris had told him there were other members scattered throughout the city, and even far into the countryside, but the Mamoran headquarters was hidden. When he asked why Regris had motioned for Keith to lean in closer, but before he could answer, another member had grabbed Regris and dragged him away. Regris mouthed 'Another time' and that was that.

When Keith entered the main hall, Thace was sitting next to the open window. a warm breeze that smelled like fresh grass weaved through the musk of the main hall. Thace’s attention was on a book, but the moment Keith’s footsteps could be heard, Thace had zoned into his presence.

“How was it?” He asked, tone casual. A long finger flipped a page of the book.

Keith rubbed his throat, his skin still hot from the afterglow of the spell. “It burned.” Thace laughed at that, the timbre echoing in the empty hall.

“It will feel well after a night’s rest.” Keith didn’t say anything. “Ulaz has a salve should you wish it to cool down, but it might not work as well as you would hope.” Thace finally looked at him. Pale eyes traced over the length on Keith’s neck, along his shirt collar and down past the sleeves of his shirt. Keith followed the gaze and startled.

Black spirals coursed around his arms in intricate detail, weaving the clan’s mark into his very being. Nausea clawed its way into the pit of Keith’s stomach.

“Kolivan really went overboard,” Thace said thoughtfully. Keith didn’t know what to say, or if he was meant to hear it. He chose to stay silent. Thace put his book down and walked over to where Keith stood, eyes tracing curiously over Keith's exposed skin.

“There it is.”

Keith tensed as Thace’s cold thumb traced a symbol at the nape of Keith’s neck.

“The people in town will not harm you as long as this is visible.”

“What is it?” Keith asked, voice shaky. He didn’t want to know — not really. He imagined it was the same symbol he traced on his mother’s thigh as a kid, the same one his father had etched as a scar into his chest. It was a familial symbol, but not of the Marmora, of his mother and father.

Thace ruffled Keith’s hair. Keith swatted at the cold hand, but Thace just chuckled. “You know what it is, kit.”

Kit. Thace and Ulaz called him that, but he didn’t know why.

“It’ll protect you from harm.” Thace massaged the muscle under the mark. “We are not the only monsters who dwell here.”

Keith stiffened.

A bell tolled somewhere outside, its echo drifting into the main hall. Thace sighed.

“Dusk is soon. You have an errand to do, yes?”

Keith slumped his shoulders. Thace offered him a pitiful smile. He still wasn’t accustomed to the Marmora's sense of time. They were all active mostly at night, running errands and doing... whatever it was they did when Keith smelled fresh blood in the mansion. Keith, for the most part, headed to bed a few hours after moonrise but lately, the clan has kept him awake by making him do menial tasks: Washing dishes, sweeping floor, mopping up blood, and most recently, errands.

“Yeah. Guess I should get ready.” Keith said with no mirth. Thace offered him a small smile.

“Krolia’s reason for keeping you from us was never shared, but we would not have you go through your life alone, kit.” Thace’s scent filled Keith’s nostrils as Thace caressed his face. Keith felt himself lean into the touch instead of pulling away. “You were precious to Krolia, and now precious to us.” Keith wanted to scoff at the last part. “You will be safe here.”

Keith simply nodded. Thace ruffled his hair one last time before Keith went upstairs to get ready for the night.

His current clothes were spotted with blood and smelled of sweat. When he entered his room, he gathered a fresh set and showered in the small, adjoining bathroom.

After he showered, Keith changed into the dark, baggy purple shirt and the black jeans we wore earlier. In the fog of the mirror, Keith could see the black lines on his arms and wished his hoodie didn’t burn in the fire.

He grabbed his keys to his room and locked his door, making his way down the main staircase and seeing Regris at the front entrance.

“Keith!” He waved, smile friendly as he fangs glistened in the dying light. “Thace told me to accompany you on your errand!” Regris laughed when Keith couldn’t hide his scowl. “Don’t be like that. Do you know where the shop is?”

Keith pulled a mental map of the town. It was hazy, but he knew the general area. He could read.

Keith opened the door and walked past him. “More or less.”

The two bickered on their way to town, mostly about Keith’s navigational skills and why he was wearing Kolivan’s old clothes. Soon, the dirt road gave way to cobblestone. Stone street lamps provided a soft glow on their walk. A cool breeze brushed over them, their hair shifting and sending a chill down Keith’s spine. His neck pricked and felt the ghost of a finger trail down his arm. He whipped around and was met with an empty street. Regris followed his gaze.

“What are you looking at?”

Keith rolled his eyes over the outlines of the trees of the forest, down the path, then back to the stone buildings. They were too close together to hide someone, and he couldn’t sense anyone beyond the path.

“Nothing.” He turned back around and eyed everything suspiciously. “Where is everyone? I thought this was a populated village.”

“It is, but almost no one comes out at night.”

Keith shivered as a cold when blew. “How come?”

Regris jumped in front of him, fangs bared and eyes in a glare. Keith stumbled back as Regris laughed. “That’s why. Vampires have been known for centuries to prey on humans, so whenever that bell tolls, it signals the townsfolk to go inside.”

“How come they haven’t…” Keith drifted off. His heart began to race before the word  _kill_ could breach his lips.

“They benefit from us,” Regris said, smoothly ignoring Keith’s sudden panic. “Ulaz is a great doctor, and a few members hunt for the town during the winter. We help them, they help us.” Regris continued ahead. “Mostly.”

Keith ignored the sick feeling pooling in his stomach in favor of following Regris. The streets were mostly made of the same stone buildings, with a few having wooden signs or small display windows. After passing a few more streets, the moon was starting to crest over the buildings when Regris turned a final corner. Instead of another cobbled street, the walkway was worn by years of foot traffic, and a few weeds grew in the force-tiled soil. A fence separated the edge of town from the other side of the forest. Keith felt the same chill. He ignored it.

“Down there is where Kolivan will probably send you for his and Thace’s errands.”

The building was hardly visible in the dark. It had no visible windows, and a single oil lantern burned just beside its wooden door. As they drew closer, Keith saw the scratch marks that were etched into the front of the door at his eye level.

Regris knocked. It was an odd rhythm, but it sounded like something Keith had heard before.

Keith watched as the door creaked open and drag across the floor. Inside were shelves upon shelves of books. A few notes were tapped on the edges and parchment signs hung from some of the ledges. A few scattered chairs held piles of well-read books and a few littered the floor. From where he stood, there didn’t seem to be a new book insight. The lighting of the shop wasn’t powered by lanterns, but by magick. Bright, blue orbs floated listlessly throughout the shop, following the paths of where customers visited most frequently. It gave the entire shop an eerie blue glow, a glow that Keith imagined that awaited the souls of the Underworld.

“Regris,” came a voice, far in the back of the shop. Keith pretended he didn’t jump at the sudden noise.

“Shiro, has Thace’s book come in yet?”

“it arrived early this morning,” ‘Shiro’ said. As they reached the back, a man came into view. He was tall and broad, muscles defined underneath the tight, white button-up shirt he wore. A monocle sat just above a deep scar that adorned his face. His hair was two-toned in the light; a white forelock fell just between his eyes and black hair sat as a short mop on his head. The sides were shaved down.

“Ah,” the man looked at Keith, eyes slowly dragging along Keith’s lithe frame, “Who’s this?”

Keith blushed at the sudden attention. Even as Regris introduced him, Shiro never took his eyes off of Keith. Keith pushed his bangs back nervously.

“It’s nice to meet you, Keith.” A comforting scent of lavender drew Keith to the man. Shiro offered him his hand with an inviting smile, and instead of leaving it there, Keith shook it. “I’m Shiro. I supply the books for the town and for the Mamora Clan.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Keith muttered, feigning disinterest.

Regris and Shiro talked about happenings in the town, and what the Mamora have been up to. Keith leaned against the wall by Shiro’s desk, eyeing the papers that filled Shiro’s corner.

They were lists in a handful of languages Keith recognized, and a few others in ancient magick. On a hanging shelf shoved into the corner were vials filled with dark liquids and bones in glass jars from various specimens. Everything about Shiro’s shop seemed crowded.

While Keith looked around, Shiro regarded him with a heated gaze between conversation. His eyes traced Keith’s soft, pale skin, the Mamora’s marking racing down lean arms and stopping halfway up a thin neck. He imagined the mark swirling down and around his torso. Sleek, black hair fell just below slumped shoulders and violet eyes peeked at him through long eyelashes and longer bangs. Even in the dim lighting of the shop, Shiro could tell what he was.

_He’s perfect._


End file.
